


A Dream

by it_will_shine



Category: One Piece
Genre: Cross-Posted on FanFiction.Net, Enies Lobby Arc, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-05
Updated: 2019-02-05
Packaged: 2019-10-22 23:50:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 866
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17672420
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/it_will_shine/pseuds/it_will_shine
Summary: They're Marine ships, but they'll help those little pirate ships out anyway.





	A Dream

They don't really feel much.

After all, they know what they are, and they know, however much is kills them to remember, that they go out of commission all the time. They'll be replaced without a second thought in a decade or so, hopefully broken down to be recycled into god-knows-what or beached on some abandoned island before they cease whatever not-existence they've been living.

Such is the life of marine ships.

(And isn't that cruel, that the kindest of fates is to be stripped of nails and screws and torn apart plank by plank to be made into something else? That the fondest thing they can not-remember is being made into some child's toy and being loved before their not-existence ended and before the not-ship -- the toy -- began to exist proper.)

On their loneliest days (weeks months years) they couldn't care less if they sunk (today tomorrow yesterday) because they're barely coherent enough to form a single not-thought and to sink into some no-name abyss seems fitting for a no-name ship. When they finally do go down to meet their brethren on the ocean floor (and it's always a when, never an if), they couldn't care less of the twice-damned crew that they cradled across the unforgiving ocean for those long days.

(And that's the lie they tell themselves, because it also kills them to not-know that sometimes they cradle the members of their crew to another kind of not-existence in their thrice-damned hollow hull of a heart.)

(It hurts sometimes, not-remembering.)

It's a pity, they not-think to themselves, that they can't do more for their crew, when a hole gets blown into their side from some errant cannon ball, from some demon of a sea king. It's hardly their fault; they can't help it if the marines don't notice that there was another ship sailing silently from behind, or if a devil fruit user caught them all by surprise. It's unlikely they'll get repaired, that's the perks of being government-funded after all; Marines don't have to play with broken toys.

Unlike pirates.

Most pirates can't afford to go traipsing through whatever and whichever island they please and demand repairs from the nearest port, and they certainly can't risk having their ship seized under the off chance that there happens to be a marine base somewhere nearby.

And that makes them jealous.

A far-off dream, really, that's all that being a Klabautermann could amount to. An unobtainable, ridiculous dream for ships that barely even have a grasp of their own consciousness. That somehow a single, individual crew member could inexplicably love a standard, run-of-the-mill ship that gets mass produced by the day and outdated by the year.

Pirate ships do not get the luxury of rest. Some sail for decades upon decades, until every crew member could navigate every hallway and room and closet with their eyes closed, and every creaky floor plank has been carefully mapped in their minds as their own unique monument. Pirate ships get rushed patch jobs on the open ocean. Pirate ships get clumsy hands parading as a shipwright's for repairs. Pirates ships get to hobble along the waves on borrowed time hoping to find a pirate friendly port and maybe they'll get to see another day.

(Pirate ships get whispered apologies when something grazes the crow's nest, and they get reverent thank-yous when they sail true, and they get love and respect and nakama and--)

Some get there.

They're so precious, so praised, and marines are just so very, very stupid.

It's more of a curse that way, deserted by nakama in a godforsaken museum with ogling tourists while they are praised for deeds done on the Grandline that they will never to sail again.

(It's one of the worst ways to end a not-existence. )

It's not a surprise they're thinking about this when a tiny ship navigates around them with the curious masthead of a sheep, sailing as fast as it can with a broken keel and roughly patched boards, and a Klabautermann at the stern towards the smoldering buildings that made up Enies Lobby.

There's chaos, and there's screaming and yelling, and the ships don't know any better, and even if they did, they had no way of telling the panicked marines of the little ship that somehow crawled its way across the ocean.

The puzzle pieces fall into place with the cries of _to the ocean!_ And with a leap of faith, the pirates fall into the arms of their waiting, dying nakama that's shuddering and creaking and breaking as tears of relief and joy and thanks fall.

The decision is made, and the marine ships feel no pity for their crew.

Whirlpools are an easy excuse. They were fighting a losing battle to begin with, and they stop fighting the current, and the bombs miss the target as the marine's aim is thrown off, time and time again. Some are sent back, but there is no twinge of despair, no sense of resignation; just satisfaction as they go down.

_Thank you!_

And with the Klabautermann far off in the distance, sailing its last journey, the marine ships let themselves go too.

They will be replaced.

**Author's Note:**

> *throws this into the abyss*


End file.
